


we passed the Setting Sun -

by badgerterritory



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F, Necromancer AU, trans lexa 4 lyfe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-20
Packaged: 2018-05-27 15:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6290809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badgerterritory/pseuds/badgerterritory
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>clarke and lexa, living and living together.</p><p>(wherein lexa is a necromancer and clarke loves her)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the first

**Author's Note:**

> poor finn, who even knew that swallows could carry coconuts

By the time they relocated to Arkadia, everyone knew about Lexa, which was discomfiting. Lexa was among the last to leave their camp, along with Clarke and Raven. It was only at Arkadia that she learned there was another person from Trikru there. Lincoln. He glared at her, and she made a point to stay out of his way.

They immediately put her to work as a healer. Their leader was a healer too, though only the ordinary kind, and she had an infinite array of questions for Lexa, which she tried to answer; the woman was Clarke’s mother, and it seemed to be… polite, perhaps.

She said things like, “It works by magic,” and also, “The black blood is a side effect of the necromancy,” and she even admitted to the light, and let some of it out for Abby’s inspection. Her vision became sharper, gained contrast, as the light appeared in her eyes.

She healed people, but only if they asked. When Abby told her that stipulation, Lexa rolled her eyes and murmured something that was perhaps not very polite in Trigedasleng, because of course she knew to ask people whether or not they wanted her help. That was the only way she’d survived for twenty years. Most of the people brought to her were accidents, or the results of fights. She’d fix a broken arm or nose, and then spend all her free time at one of her hobbies. Secure behind actual walls, she’d started to teach herself to carve wood, and she wrote. Two of the books she had were a record of sorts. Journals of generations of necromancers. It took her three nights to read her way through all of it.

There were records of experiments, seeing how long after death one necromancer could wait until revival, how much damage could be repaired in how much time, even memory transference. There were stories. There were pages scratched out, written over, ripped away. There were ninety pages filled with Anya’s small, sloppy scrawling, and fifty empty pages. There was another book that was slightly smaller and completely filled, and one that was completely blank.

Lexa filled the book with her own information, and Clarke let her attempt a few of the experiments listed in the book on her. Lexa was grateful for it. They hadn’t talked about their feelings since that kiss, or what they were to each other. Lexa wasn’t sure what kind of courting traditions the Sky People had, if they had any. But Clarke was a steady, warm presence.

She was in her room off the infirmary when the Chancellor came to her. She was one of the few with a private room for safety reasons. Her safety, and the safety of others, as she got restless if she was around people too much.

Abby cleared her throat to announce herself, and Lexa didn’t bother looking up from her book. Abby said her name, and Lexa responded with a segment from a poem she enjoyed, and enjoyed even more the slight frown that crossed Abby’s face. She’d been teaching the Sky People a little Trigedasleng, mostly the children, but Abby hadn’t learned any. Lexa enjoyed saying random things, and watching the Sky People trying to figure out if they’d just been insulted.

After a few more minutes of silence, which were doubtlessly awkward for Abby, Lexa set her book aside and turned to her visitor. Abby started with, “You didn’t stay your full shift in the infirmary.”

Lexa shrugged, and felt her hair brushing against her shoulders. She’d have to take a knife to it soon; the flames burned it all off, and she’d gotten used to short hair.

Abby continued. “You signed on for a five-hour shift. You should stay there for the entire shift.”

Lexa glanced at her out of the corner of her eye. Abby was treating her like a child, like she didn’t know about responsibility. It was a strange feeling. Lexa defaulted to cold indifference after a few moments, though, and said, “I signed on for a five-hour shift. In the first hour I treated five broken bones, including a broken rib, and brought three people back from death. That would have put Anya out for the rest of the day. Please forgive me for taking some time for myself.”

Abby didn’t seem to have anything to say to that, and after a moment she left. Seconds after her departure, though, Lincoln appeared in the doorway, and Lexa’s hand went to her dagger, but he didn’t seem to want to kill her. Instead he stared at her pensively for a count of five, then asked, “Your powers have limits?” in their language.

“Mostly those of the mind,” Lexa responded, relaxing her grip on her dagger but not letting go of it. “When we remove pain or death, we take it into ourselves. We experience… a ghost of injury, Anya always called it. Depending on age, skill and practice, it can take a lot out of a necromancer. My mother didn’t use her powers often. She was much more cautious than me.”

“So she was more limited than you.” His eyes went to the book next to her. “What is that?”

“A book of necromancers.” She shifted it to behind her, watching Lincoln carefully. She wasn’t sure she could take him with a blade, but she didn’t want anyone to know she’d figured out how to kill with her necromancy.

But again, he didn’t seem aggressive, merely morbidly curious. “Does it explain where necromancy comes from?”

“No.” Lexa’s knuckles went white on the knife. “You may be pleased to know, though, that necromancers don’t see the Forest when they die.” She knew that from personal experience, as well as the book, but she didn’t mention that.

Lincoln watched her for another count of five, and then left.

Lexa didn’t release her dagger until Clarke came.

 

Clarke somehow convinced her to go to a public meeting. She tried to convince Lexa to sit with her in the front row, which was where the Chancellor and her advisors sat, but Lexa chose to sit in back instead, because Lincoln was in front, and even though whatever the hell it was had happened, she didn’t want to push him.

She’d revive, but that didn’t make dying any more pleasant.

The meeting was as boring as Lexa expected it to be. People talked about crops, and construction, and forming some kind of grudging peace with the Heda of Trikru in exchange for aid against the Mountain Men. That was vaguely interesting, but the report was over as soon as it started, and Lexa slumped back into her chair. A few of the younger children wandered over, and she entertained them with her light. She enjoyed entertaining children.

And then she heard the word ‘necromancer’, and all her light was snapped up in an instant and her eyes went to the speaker. One of the Sky People. “We don’t know what she can do,” he was saying, “or what she does to the people she brings back. And as long as we don’t know, she’s…” He stopped speaking when he saw her rising. She walked calmly to the stage, calmly pushed the man away from the stand, and said her next words very clearly and deliberately, for maximum effect:

“They’d burn me alive for days out there,” and she saw many faces in the crowd cringe or go pale, as she expected, “and if you’d like to do the same to me, I will be exactly where I always am. In your hospital, healing your people.”

She kept her head high as she left. Once she was out of the building, though, she let herself slump again, and went back to her room and her books.

Lincoln was the first to come, and once again he stayed in the doorway. “I know what you were doing,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. It was a vulnerable gesture, a weakened position, though Lexa knew he was still dangerous. A gesture of goodwill. Lexa returned it by gesturing for him to continue, then folding her hands in front of her. “You’re not very likeable. But you do command respect. The more they respect you, the more they feel indebted, the more willing they will be to protect you.”

Lexa smiled, hiding her knives behind pleasance like Anya taught her. “Necromancers learn to fight with words first, if they want to live any length of time at all.”

“Then that’s what this is about?” Lincoln uncrossed his arms and rested a hand against the door, clearly preparing to leave. “Surviving?”

Lexa unclasped her hands as well, leaning back. Another deliberately vulnerable position. “Of course it is. Survival is the only thing a necromancer can afford to think about. One can only hope to leave as little destruction in her wake as possible.” That was something Anya liked to say. Costia always thought it was cruel. It seemed to Lexa like the most true Anya had ever taught her.

Again, Lincoln left without saying anything. Again, a Griffin came in after him, although this time it was the older one. Abby asked, “Was he bothering you?” When Lexa didn’t respond, other than a cold stare, Abby sighed and came further into the room. “I came to… ask about your intentions with my daughter.”

Lexa spoke in Trigedasleng: “I intend to bend your daughter over the desk out there and do things to her that will make her scream so loud that Tondc hears it.” Abby frowned, and Lexa switched to English with a chiding, “You really should start learning Trigedasleng, Chancellor,” then, “I don’t see how my _intentions_ are any of your business.”

“Clarke is my daughter.” There was steel in Abby’s voice; Lexa had pushed her too far. “And she’s in a very vulnerable place right now. She’s a good girl. I just don’t want you to take advantage of her.”

Lexa was saved from responding to that by another intruder. Clarke, coming to check on Lexa. Abby made an excuse and left, and Clarke waited until she was completely gone to sit on Lexa’s bed and murmur in Trigedasleng, “All the way in Tondc?”

Lexa laughed with Clarke, enjoying the sound. Clarke had few reasons to laugh, and it was beautiful. They sat in silence. For twenty seconds, they held their silence. Finally Lexa had to speak. “I don’t want to give you any false hopes, Klark kom Skaikru. A relationship between us… I’m immortal. I’m going to live forever, if I’m not ended. And there’s no way to extend someone’s life.”

Clarke shook her head. “That’s not it. That’s not why,” and she looked at Lexa, and it felt like Costia’s gaze all over again, and _We’re both necromancers, Lexa_ , and.

The words stuck in Lexa’s throat, but she forced them out, orderly. One word after another. “Her name was Costia. She was a necromancer. Like me. Like Anya. She raised herself. Taught herself. She was radiant. I’m bright, but her…” Lexa lifted her hand and shone. “Ice Nation caught her. She refused to give us up. I saw her head roll before they burned her.”

Clarke wrapped her hands around Lexa’s glow. “I know it’s hard. But I do like you, Lexa. And you deserve to be happy. Even if I don’t live forever.”

Lexa looked at their hands, and gently tugged hers free. Clarke’s hands went to her lap. Lexa composed herself and said, “I will… think about what you’ve said. Clarke.”

She nodded, kissed Lexa on the temple, and left.


	2. the second

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bleh bleh bleh bleh bleh

“When I talked about marking each other up,” Clarke said, “this is definitely not what I meant.”

Lexa smiled at her, and that stupid hitting stick blurred and smacked her on the knee again. “Isn’t it? I think this is a wonderful use of our time, Clarke.” Clarke watched, but she still couldn’t block the stick before Lexa gave her a ‘love tap’ on her ribs. She called it a love tap. It was a hit. Clarke wheezed. “Come on, Clarke,” Lexa teased, and it was sort of amazing to see Lexa teasing, “I’m starting to think you aren’t taking this seriously.”

Clarke made a valiant effort, but once again: A blur, a stinging pain. Clarke swore, and she only realized after Lexa smiled that she’d done it in Trigedasleng. “You’re a terrible influence,” Clarke said, although she was grinning. Lexa had that effect, when she wasn’t in her work mode. In other words, when she was alone with Clarke. Lexa was smiling back at her, and Lexa leaned in to kiss her. Clarke took the opportunity to try and hit Lexa, but she danced away from the strike, laughing.

“You’ll have to do better than that.” Lexa’s eyes were challenging her. Lexa’s chest, dripping with sweat, was also challenging her, in a different way. “Come on, Clarke. Hit me and I’ll let you touch me.”

As incentives went, that was a very persuasive one. Clarke tried even harder, but Lexa was overwhelmingly fast, and when she hit, she hit hard. And yet, when Clarke was wheezing on the floor and Lexa was breathing deep and slow, Lexa said, “Honestly, Klark kom Skaikru, if you can’t hit me when I’m going easy, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

“Going easy,” Clarke grumbled. “Sure.”

Octavia’s voice sent Lexa’s walls up the second she heard it. “I know you weren’t just fighting, because you aren’t a smear across the ground, Clarke.” Clarke looked up, and Octavia was smirking. She felt her own smile slipping off her face. Lexa was backing away from her, and both hands curled around her hitting stick. “Lexa, the hospital needs you. Construction accident.” Lexa nodded and left, and Octavia looked sharply at Clarke next. “You seem to be getting close.”

“Seems so,” Clarke agreed, accepting Octavia’s hand and using it to pull herself off the ground. “I don’t really know what gave it away. Maybe the fact that we were spending time in private? You know, with privacy?”

“In a public room.” Octavia smirked at her. It still got a reaction out of Clarke. Even with everything, even with Lexa, pretty girls still made her heart flutter. The smirk left after a few seconds, though, and left Octavia with a frown on her face. “Come on. You need to get to the Chancellor’s office.” Octavia didn’t answer her when she asked why, so Clarke just shrugged and followed her. It was probably just another lecture from her mother about how she was vulnerable and didn’t need a distraction like Lexa in her life.

 

It was not a lecture.

“How can you even be thinking about this?” It exploded out of Clarke. Her chest felt like it’d been scraped open, ribs pulled apart and heart pulled out and shown to her just so she could see it being smashed into the shitty table. “Why didn’t you tell him to go straight to hell?”

Her mom looked upset, so Kane answered for her. “We need this alliance. You negotiated a ceasefire with them, with Lincoln’s help,” and Lincoln nodded his head to acknowledge the acknowledgement, “but a ceasefire isn’t an alliance. We both have a common enemy in the Mountain Men. You know how much of a threat they are to us.” Yes, Clarke knew. She remembered the mission Lincoln and Bellamy and Octavia went on, how they barely came back with their people, stumbling and filled with needle holes. She remembered the stories the survivors told. “And the Woods Clan are a concern as well. An alliance would save us a great deal of trouble. But they refuse to talk while they know we have a necromancer in Arkadia.”

“I argued.” Clarke was startled to hear that coming out of Lincoln. When she looked at him, he was staring at the table. “I was exiled. I knew it would happen, but I hoped my words would help change someone’s mind.”

Abby raised her hands. “Obviously, we don’t want to hand over Lexa.” Her voice was even. “Aside from the good work she does, they plan to execute her for something she has no control over. And Lexa, for all her… abrasiveness, is a good girl. We don’t want to. But we might not have a choice soon enough, if we want to live at all.”

The words stuck in Clarke’s throat. Her hands balled up into fists, and she ground the knuckles into the table. The stupid table, where they decided to hand Lexa to people who’d kill her. Finally, Clarke’s fists unclenched, and her jaw relaxed enough to say, “She has control over it. She could have chosen not to use her power. But that’s not who she is. She got caught saving a child’s life. Her mother _chose_ to sacrifice herself to save Lexa. To _burn_. And now you’re going to hand Lexa over to be burned? Why? Because it’s more convenient? Because some jackass has a problem with her? All of you should be ashamed of yourselves!” She caught her breath in three deep breaths, and added, “Not you, Lincoln. Thank you for trying to help.” She straightened up, tidied her clothes, and finished. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to go tell Lexa you’re planning to throw her to the wolves.”

She walked out of the office calmly, but once she was out she started running, heart in her throat. Lexa was in her room, and Clarke shut the door and locked it. When she turned around, Lexa had put down her book, and was looking at Clarke curiously. She kissed Lexa, holding her face, and felt Lexa respond as she always did, the small smile on lips pressing happily against hers. Lexa still refused to put a word on them, but she smiled every time Clarke kissed her.

“They want to give you to the grounders,” Clarke mumbled in a rush, and at Lexa’s frown, corrected herself. “Trikru. They won’t negotiate as long as you’re here. They want to give you over to secure an alliance.”

“Of course they do.” Clarke looked up in surprise. Lexa’s voice wasn’t surprised, but it also wasn’t flat with anger. “It’s the smart thing. You should look after your people. That was one of the most important things I learned from Anya.”

“I thought the most important thing you learned from Anya was hitting innocent, cute people with sticks.” That made Lexa smile. Clarke did adore Lexa’s smile. She sat down next to her and held Lexa’s hand, feeling the smooth skin. “I remember,” Clarke said, slow and soft for reasons she couldn’t put together, “when you were a prisoner.”

“I don’t.” The joke, Lexa telling a joke, surprised a laugh out of Clarke. Lexa gestured her to continue, so she did.

“After you brought Heather back, Raven came to you. Asked you if you could help her. And you didn’t lie to her, and you helped her. Because she was in pain, and you could help.” Clarke’s thumb pressed into Lexa’s finger. “What if you were my people, Lexa? What if we were…” Clarke kissed Lexa’s hand, because it was all she could think to do. Lexa was still. So incredibly still. “I love you.” It was the only thing she could think to say. “I love you, Lexa.” More than anything else. She’d never let anyone hurt Lexa again. Even if Lexa was immortal, even if she could recover from almost anything. Clarke didn’t want her to be hurt anymore.

Lexa pulled her hand away, and Clarke let it go. “I’m immortal,” she said quietly, and held up a hand when Clarke started to protest. “It’s not something that will stop being true, Clarke. You will die, and I will live on. And on. Maybe one day I will be like Anya, taking in younger necromancers, teaching them. But that future is centuries away. I can afford to think that far ahead. And if we were… if we were bound to each other, Clarke, I’d bring only ruin to you. I don’t want that. You deserve better than me.”

“And you get to decide that for me?” Lexa sat back, retreating behind her walls, and Clarke grabbed her shoulder. “Hey. Listen to me, Lexa. I love you, okay? I want to be with you. As far as I’m concerned, you’re the only person I’m going to love for the rest of my life. So either we get married, or we run away and live in the woods.”

Clarke kissed Lexa before she could even start coming up with a response, and Lexa kissed back, but less than usual. Clarke pulled away and Lexa murmured, “You’re far better than I deserve.”

“I love you,” Clarke said, grabbing her hand again. “That’s exactly what you deserve.”

Lexa looked down, where their hands were joined. She whispered it, in Trigedasleng, and Clarke couldn’t stop her smile if she tried. Which she didn’t.

 

They went to Lincoln first, and he stumbled through it, but the ceremony was performed. It bound them together, soul and blood, and they marked each other. Ideally, the pattern would later be made permanent, tattooed on their skin. But they were in a hurry, and simply thanked Lincoln, who wished them luck and promised not to tell until they were finished.

 

They went through a few people but Raven (after laughing) agreed to officiate the marriage. She couldn’t stop smiling throughout, and occasionally let out a giggle. But she made it through the speech, the vows, signing the papers and confirming the witnesses. There were three, the bare minimum: Octavia, Bellamy, Monty. The siblings thought it was a bad idea. Monty congratulated them.

 

They consummated the marriage first, hot mouths and grasping fingers, in an empty part of Arkadia, hidden away. They celebrated the binding in the Chancellor’s office by knocking everything off Abby’s desk and sitting on it while they talked. They straightened up and called a meeting.

 

Abby was angry at first, but she was furious when Clarke presented the (slightly crumpled) papers. It also conveniently exposed the mark made in Lexa’s black blood on her arm. “The marriage is legal,” Clarke said. “And the binding was done according to tradition. According to all laws involved, Lexa is one of us now. And I’m one of hers.”

“Clarke, I know you were angry about… what we discussed, but,” and Clarke had to interrupt her.

The words came out of her fast and angry. “I was angry. That’s why I went to Lexa. But when I proposed this to her, it wasn’t to save her. I know you’re not shy about making widows.” Clarke regretted that as soon as she said it, Abby’s mouth twisting up, but she hurried to get the rest out. Lincoln was looking at the ground. They’d already hashed this out in front of him. “I love her. And I know you’re going to say that I haven’t known her that long, but I’ve known her long enough to know that she’s the best person I know, and she’s beautiful, and.” The words stuck in her throat. She only said them looking at Lexa, looking into her eyes. “And I don’t care if I’m not going to live forever. I’m going to spend whatever I’ve got with you.”

Lexa softened at that, and one of her hands went out to gently curl its fingers around Clarke’s.

“And,” Clarke added, “if that jackass in Tondc wants to take Lexa, he has to go through me. Nobody is going to hurt my wife.”

Kane rubbed the back of his neck. Abby was the one who said, “We can’t hand her over. Not now. We can’t.” She sighed. “I guess that ends any possibility of an alliance with the grounders, then.”

Lexa stepped forward. Her fingers slipped away from Clarke’s and she folded her hands behind her back. “If it helps, I can move outside the walls. Until the alliance is secured. If my wife is present, I’m sure she can make a passionate case for me. I can protect myself, and you.” She turned to Clarke, and spoke only to her, softly. “You can help my people.”

Clarke bit her lip. That wasn’t something they’d talked about. “I could come with you,” she said, hushed. Lexa shook her head, pressed a hand against Clarke’s ribs. “Okay, okay,” Clarke sighed. “Yeah. You should still take someone.”

“I’m needed for the talks,” Lincoln said. “But Octavia’s becoming a great warrior. She could help watch Lexa’s back.”

Lexa squeezed Clarke’s arm. “I’ll be fine. Klark kom Trikru.”

“Leksa kom Skaikru,” Clarke muttered back, smiling despite herself.

Abby said, “Who dumped everything on the floor?”


End file.
